


The Highway To Hell

by SpiderKatana



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AKA:Divine Spidey, Angel!Peter, Guardian Angel Petey-pie, Human Wade, M/M, Peter nearly pulling out his hair because how much trouble can one human get into?, Peter trying his hardest to protect Wade, Petey is a cinnamon roll and an angel of the Lord, not that many though, some original characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 08:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderKatana/pseuds/SpiderKatana
Summary: Peter is an Angel that Heaven is disappointed in. He is given one last chance to redeem himself, to become a Guardian Angel for a human that God's will has deemed important to the survival and advancement of mankind. The rules are: protect the charge at all costs, do not get involved in their life, and never fall in love.Peter agrees because, how hard can it be?It turns out that following the rules is not as simple as he thought it would be when the human he's assigned to is Wade Wilson.





	The Highway To Hell

Peter didn't want to rebel. He truly did not wish to.

 

It was just getting harder and harder to remember _why_ he remained faithful to heaven, when heaven seemed to despise him.

 

There were exceptions, of course. Gwen, Mary Jane, Harry. But none of them were in charge of Peter. None of them had the power or the jurisdiction to command him or protect him.

 

The angels that did, angels from the First Order, didn't care for him. They saw Peter as an irreversible mistake.

 

The First Order were the Angels handmade by God. There were Archangels and Subordinate Angels within them, but they all had more responsibilities than the angels of the Second Order.

 

Humans worshipped all things related to God, but they had no idea that they had the story wrong.

 

There was no rebellion against God in the beginning. No Adam and Eve. No apple of sin. No Garden of Eden. There was just God who created a planet with oceans and trees and focused on perfecting his angels while evolution happened without him realizing it.

 

By the time God finished with the First Order of Angels and understood the magnitude of his creation, it was too late to suppress it. Humans had begun to develop languages. They had started to fight over territory. They reproduced.

 

There were not enough angels in heaven to watch over the Earth.

 

So God improvised. He created a ritual, a process that would turn a human soul into an angelic one. He told every angel in the First Wave to choose one human that was worthy of serving Heaven.

 

Some chose slaves for their obedience, they explained their reasoning to their father- that those humans would require no further training.

 

Others chose warriors for the strength and experience they could lend to Heaven, the power they could use to serve God.

 

A few chose scholars for the intelligence they housed, the solutions they could pose to any problem that arose in the future, so that angels needn't bother God with every minor disruption.

 

No choice, however, was as confusing as that of God’s favored angel.

 

Lucifer did not choose a slave. He did not choose a warrior. He did not choose a scholar.

 

Lucifer handpicked a young man, a fragile thin _boy_ , that had experienced far too much loss and hadn't lived long enough to have anything to offer their kingdom.

 

When the favored one offered no explanation, God asked him what the child was chosen for.

Lucifer shielded the young man with one wing as the other angels and recruits stared at him curiously. He met his father's eyes steadily, a feat no other angel ever dared to replicate, and said a single word.

 

“Love.”

 

The angels were confused. The recruits were baffled. God… he did not object.

 

Peter was the first angel reborn of The Second Order. He was respected as Lucifer’s prodigy. The favored of the favored.

 

And then Lucifer rebelled and Peter was shoved down to the bottom of the hierarchy.

 

Lucifer was cast out of heaven, sent to watch over Hell, and Peter was no longer trusted.

 

It became worse when God abandoned them, leaving behind stone tablets with instructions only the prophets could read.

 

Each century, the angels of the first order hunted for the prophets, only to kill them so that their souls could reach Heaven and they could command the angels. It was ironic, how angels were tasked with watching over mankind, only to receive their orders from dead humans.

 

And the angels of the First Order gave tasks to those of the Second, tasks they were too busy to handle themselves with the growing population on Earth.

 

Peter grew more hated by his superiors every day. He was not useful to them. They wanted him to aid in unleashing the plague. They wanted him to collect the souls of the dead on the battlefield when the reapers had too many cases to dispose of at once. They ordered him to aid in the invention of the first gun to end the war faster. They ordered him to kill slaves in fields to spare them the misery of their existence.

 

Peter did not follow their orders. He was beaten for it, he was tortured for it. His defiance was legend among the angels. They hated Lucifer for his violence, but they despised Peter for his kindness. They did not accept him because he loved humanity more than he could ever love his place in heaven.

 

And yet they did not have the authority to throw him out. It was not written in stone. It was the will of God that the only useless angel among their ranks remain.

 

Angels were not supposed to have strong emotions, that had supposedly been kept out of the genetics in the First Order and eradicated from the souls in the Second Order, but sometimes… sometimes Peter could feel a tide of resentment. He couldn't decide if the recipient of his resentment was God for leaving him to drown among the mindless obedience of most angels, or Lucifer for choosing him in the first place.

 

Because while other angels felt little to nothing, Peter always felt too much.

 

Too much mercy. Too much helplessness. Too much love.

 

Gwen had been killed because of his love.

 

She had noticed his feelings. She had acted on them and Peter pushed her away to protect her, to keep her from ruining her standing in the hierarchy.

 

When the archangel Michael found the first prophet of that century, the tablet had declared that Gwen had acted on a _human_ impulse. A sin.

 

She was cast out of heaven.

 

But unlike Lucifer, she did not leave willingly when given the order. She tried to fight the allegations, to debate God's will. They cut her wings and she fell to the Earth.

 

She would have died either way. But Peter tried to save her, flying down and catching her at the last moment before she hit the ground. Only the force of it was too much for what was, by that point, a _human_ to survive.

 

Her spine broke apart in his arms.

 

From then on, Peter ignored every single request Heaven sent his way that did not please him.

 

MJ and Harry tried to, “Reason with him,” but Peter no longer cared about the opinion the majority of Heaven held of him.

 

He only accepted tasks that involved _saving_ lives not taking them. He was assigned less and less important tasks.

 

Which was why he was so surprised when the door to his room was opened, not by a messenger, but by Rafael, an Archangel.

 

“Pietro,” he greeted.

 

Peter held back a sigh. “Should I bother to correct you or will you insist on the use of the most antiquated version of my name?”

 

Rafael stood tall in his doorway, head held high. “It is not antiquated if the humans continue its use in this century.”

 

“As you say,” Peter replied, voice tinged with resignation. He briefly considered asking if he could help Rafael with anything, but he decided not to. The older angel would either assign him a task which he would ignore, or assign him a mundane healing task he could complete in all of five minutes. Angels did not assign him anything directly from the tablets themselves. They only sent him to clean up when a human prayed to the better known angels, asking for help.

 

Rafael did not make him wait long.

 

“There is a human life delineated in the latest tablet.”

 

Peter blinked. “In the tablet?”

 

He was sure he must have misheard. He did not get assignments directly from the prophets. It was probably just a mistake.

 

Rafael stared at him without blinking. “I will not repeat what I know you have heard already.”

 

Peter's eyes went wide. His heart raced in his chest, but he didn't let himself hope for anything. Not yet. For all he knew, they would ask him to murder this human.

 

Rafael stiffened further in his position and said, “The human’s survival is _crucial_ to the survival of mankind. We archangels have taken into account your… protective tendencies… toward humanity and we have decided to select you as the next Guardian Angel.”

 

Peter stopped breathing entirely. He knew he didn't necessarily need to breathe to survive anymore, but it was a habit he never learned to break and now it had gone still in the face of all the implications. He was being promoted. He was being sent to Earth for however long the human lifespan lasted. He was finally being allowed to _protect_ life rather than end it.

 

Rafael was not done. “You must understand that while the archangels chose you, the _vast majority_ of the First Order did not agree with our choice and will eagerly select a replacement in the event of your failure. To that end, the human you are being assigned to is not safe. He will _never_ be safe. If he was, he wouldn't _require_ the presence of a Guardian in the first place.”

 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Rafael put up a hand and Peter went silent again, terrified this opportunity would be snatched away from him.

 

“That means you _will_ eliminate any direct threat to his life.”

 

Peter swallowed. Rafael stared at him, waiting for a response.

 

If people threatened his charge and he was to be kept alive for God’s will… then they were bad people. Peter would protect the human as much as possible and hope he never had to resort to such permanent ends.

 

Finally, he nodded once.

 

Rafael did not smile, but the tension rolled off his shoulders in the blink of an eye. He still held himself regally, but he didn't seem as if he was preparing for another war.

 

“Very well. There are only two rules to this assignment. Rules you must _follow_ without question.” He waited for Peter to stop scowling. “One: Keep your charge alive at all costs. Two: _Never_ immerse yourself in the human’s life.”

 

Peter stood, excitement making his wings tremble. “I can do that.” What were a few rules when he could spend years outside of the confines of heaven?

 

Rafael raised a skeptical brow.

 

“I can!” Peter insisted mulishly.

 

Rafael brushed a tired hand over his face before meeting Peter’s eyes once more and grimacing.

 

“Pietro, I would not see the need to remind any other angel of this rule, but given the reason your predecessor gave for your… selection… I find it necessary to restate-"

 

Peter ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his wings bristling agitatedly.

 

“I _know_ what happens to angels who become _involved_ with humans. I know what happens to angels who become involved even with other _angels._ It may have escaped your notice that an angel _died in my arms_ because of it!”

 

Rafael flinched. Gwen was a touchy subject with any angel, let alone the man that chose her as his successor. Peter felt no sympathy for him, given that he didn't lift a finger to save her when he had the chance. The older angel then nodded and reached out a hand.

 

Peter glared at him, but he took it and soon they were in a hospital delivery room, their presence unnoticed by those within.

 

Rafael turned to leave, but Peter grabbed hold of his wrist.

 

“Wait!” he said.

 

“You require further instruction?” his superior asked.

 

Peter turned away from him and stared at the baby coddled in the doctor's gloved hands.

 

“What's his name?” he asked in a whisper.

 

Peter was so lost in his admiration of the tiny little human being wrapped up in a small bundle that he didn't notice Rafael’s sad and knowing expression as he said-

 

“They will name him Wade. Wade Winston Wilson.”

 

So lost he did not notice Rafael’s departure as he stood closer to the baby that oddly enough did not cry in his mother's arms.

 

Two small blue eyes blinked open slowly and fixed on Peter. The child uttered a small, “ah!” and waved one tiny fist in Peter's direction and Peter smiled.

 

“Wade,” he repeated softly.

 

The baby gave him a distinctly gummy smile in return and waved his little fist harder.

 

Peter grinned. Maybe protecting Wade wouldn't be as hard as Rafael made it seem. The little boy already seemed like a fighter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be so full of angst, but worth it, I promise.


End file.
